


But They Ain't Got Nothing on You

by brawlingdiscontent



Series: Heart is Full [2]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Crack, Don't do this kids!, I have no regrets, It got even sillier, Jealous Erik, M/M, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-28 18:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19400173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawlingdiscontent/pseuds/brawlingdiscontent
Summary: A dinner is spoiled. A continuation of 'Got You Locked Down Like Police,' but also stands on its own. (title from Miike Snow song, “Heart is Full”)





	But They Ain't Got Nothing on You

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to those of you that were expecting a 'terrible with the brightness of gold' update! It's coming, but I needed a little break with something silly, so decided to polish up this crack fic that I found sitting on my hard drive (since I'm back to my clunky old laptop while I wait for my new chromebook).

As she made her way back to her favourite table, wine bottle in hand, Jean surveyed the crowded restaurant. Most of her tables were looking content, which was good: she could afford to linger for a moment. While an experienced server, she wasn’t yet used to the stress of working at such an elite restaurant as _Caspartina._ The wealthy clientele could be tricky to please—although she found that the tips more than made up for the inconvenience.

Glancing quickly at her ponytail in a passing mirror (smooth as ever), she moved in range to pour the wine—one of their best $300 bottles—and overheard part of the conversation between the two men seated at the table.

“So, Sebastian, tell me more about your business,” the closest man said, leaning forward in interest.

The handsome man speaking was Dr. Xavier, Professor of Genetics at Columbia. Jean knew because Emma had pulled her aside to reveal just that when the two men had entered the restaurant a few minutes earlier: _“Important customer, sugar”_. The frosty maître d’ had even smiled—though there seemed to be something else—perhaps a hint of mischief—going on behind her eyes.

When Jean had approached to introduce herself as their server, Dr. Xavier had given her a dazzling smile that had made her insides flutter.

Jean poured wine for the well-figured but not quite as arresting man sitting across the table, and then filled the professor’s glass.

“Thank you, Love,” the professor said, acknowledging her pour with a gentle smile and flick of his fingers. She felt her cheeks heat, and was forced to concentrate in order to maintain her steady grip on the bottle.

After lingering just slightly too long and ascertaining there was nothing else either of them needed, she reluctantly went to move on and gazed out across the restaurant to determine her next stop.

It was at that point that she noticed the man.

He was sitting at one of the corner tables, a trilby hat pulled low over his face as he perused the menu. His clothes looked expensive—a sharp jacket studded with silver cufflinks—and blended in with the rest of their typical clientele; and yet, there was something not quite right about him.

It was odd to see a customer keeping a hat on in a place like this.

Jean scanned the restaurant again, quickly. All seemed well; even that horrid couple at table thirty-four were looking content for the time being. She made a quick decision, altering her course to start wiping down the table behind the professor’s. In order to more closely examine the mysterious stranger, of course. It was her duty to keep an eye on suspicious activity…and if she happened to hear a few more snatches of conversation from the dashing professor, well then, that was just an added bonus.

She squinted across the room at the man, and watched as he…turned a page of the menu. Well. It never hurt to be careful.

Scrubbing lightly at a spot of what appeared to be hollandaise sauce, her concentration was broken as the conversation from the table in front of her reached her ears. The other man—Sebastian—was speaking.

“Forgive me, Charles, this is somewhat of a delicate subject, but I was a little surprised when you asked me here tonight. I had understood that you were married.”

The professor didn’t appear troubled by the implicit question.

“Separated. Irreconcilable differences, I’m afraid.” As Jean snuck a glance, she caught the nonchalant shrug of a shapely shoulder.

“Ah. Sorry to hear it,” replied Sebastian, who seemed to relax at this pronouncement and did not look at all sorry. “Well, their loss is my gain, for tonight I am the one to benefit from the pleasure of your incomparable company.” The older man lifted his glass, tipping his chin back in admiration.

The compliment was a little much for Jean—who had abandoned all attempts at subtlety and was now full-on staring in interest—but the professor seemed to respond well, a flirtatious smile curving on his lips.

“Sebastian, you flatter me.” Dr. Xavier’s eyes were bright with appraisal as he raised his glass in return. As he sipped, Jean noticed helplessly that his red lips were bolder than the dark wine in the glass.

“If you’ll excuse my forwardness, I hope to do a lot more before the night is over,” Sebastian stated boldly, reaching across the table to touch the other’s hand.

And Jean had no time to react, not even to blush at the intimate turn in the conversation upon which she was eavesdropping, because that’s when everything went to hell. 

All of a sudden—as if prompted by some hidden cue—several diners pushed back their chairs from their places throughout the restaurant and stood, drawing concealed weapons with which they covered the crowd.

Jean froze in place as gasps ran through the restaurant and someone screamed. The man seated in the corner, the one that Jean had been ‘keeping an eye on’, stood up, too, and surveyed the room in the manner of a king looking over his kingdom. He was undoubtedly their leader.

“Everyone, please, stay calm,” he announced, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of reassurance. “Stay in your seats. No need to get excited.” As he spoke, he moved in an over-casual manner toward the centre of the restaurant, heading in the general area—no, exactly towards—the table in front of Jean: the table at which the professor and his date were seated.

Jean watched in horror as he came to a stop at its head, her common sense warring with the instinct to intervene.

When he reached the diners he doffed his hat dramatically and reached down to take a sip of the professor’s wine. 

“Hello, my dear,” the leader said. Jean had no idea what was going on, but was sure it wasn’t good.

Scowling, Dr. Xavier gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t finished with that, Erik.”

“But I think you are, now,” the man responded. He looked over to the professor’s date. “Good evening—Mr. Shaw, is it? Erik Lehnsherr. Charles’ _husband._ ” The smile that he—Lehnsherr—was giving the other man was sharp enough to cut. He extended his hand to shake, but the professor smacked it away.

“Soon to be _ex_ -husband. Sebastian, I do apologize for this interruption. Some people just don’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

The professor’s unfortunate date at last dared to speak up.

“Perhaps I should go, and let you two sort this out,” he offered, shifting in his seat as though preparing to make a dash for it.

A hand grabbed his arm. “Don’t be silly, Sebastian, you’re staying.” The voice had slightly too much of an edge to be casual, and the professor’s hand betrayed an underlying tension where it clutched the other man.

“ _Charles,”_ Lehnsherr growled. He pronounced the professor’s name in such a way that made it clear he didn’t like to share his attention.

Dr. Xavier turned back to the intruder. “For God’s sake, Erik, can’t you leave me alone for _one_ evening? And quit trying to play at being a comic book villain.” He gestured dismissively at the armed gunmen as if to ask ‘ _am I supposed to be impressed?’_ “Believe me, you’re no Heath Ledger.”

The professor’s attitude, utterly devoid of fear, and his chiding, didn’t seem to bother the intruder. The other man—who was placated the moment those eyes were back on him—seemed rather to take a kind of pleasure in it. 

“If I’m the villain, I suppose you’d be the sanctimonious hero, then,” he replied, his mouth quirking in satisfaction. “A good fit.”

An ill-placed shuffle had him glancing back at the third party at the table, whose presence he seemed to have temporarily forgotten. Lehnsherr’s eyes narrowed, his face taking on a distinctly dangerous expression, as he turned back to the professor. 

“So you want me to leave you alone, do you? So that you can date other men?”

Dr. Xavier regarded him with an expression that Jean imagined he might use on an undergraduate who’d asked a particularly stupid question.

“Well, I’d hardly be dating _you_ now, would I? Now kindly fuck off so Sebastian and I can finish our dinner.” If he’d actually bothered to look over at his date, the professor would have noticed that the other man had gone completely pale and had frozen in his seat.

Lehnsherr did not like the sound of this one bit.

“You should watch your tone, Charles. Aren’t you worried that I might have your ‘date’ taken outside and shot?”

The professor, rather than seeming the least bit intimidated by the frankly alarming—and by the amount of weapons in the room, clearly enforceable—threat, scoffed.

“Oh, please, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Do you really want to test me right now, Charles?”

“No, Erik, I think you’ll find it is _you_ who shouldn’t test _me_ ,” the professor replied, his composure truly breaking for the first time as his lip curled back in anger.

This provoked an even more dangerous reaction as ‘Erik’ smacked his hands down, leaning heavily on the table, to be more of a height with the professor’s chair. “You think I won’t do it? I will, right this minute—and it will be your fault!”

“I _dare_ you to!” The professor’s reaction was swift and vehement. He pushed back from the table—and Jean suspected that if the other man hadn’t quickly stepped back, his foot would have been flattened by a wheel—and turned to face Lehnsherr head-on. “Go ahead, I don’t care: shoot him! See if I’ll be sleeping with you after that!”

Someone, somewhere in the restaurant knocked a glass off the table in shock, but neither of the arguing men seemed to register it--as thus far they’d seemed to completely disregard all of their captive audience, utterly unselfconscious in this public airing of grievances. Neither did they spare even a glance for the subject of their argument, the poor man now shaking and looking like he might topple over at any minute. They stared only at each other, with twin looks of outrage and spots of colour rising in their cheeks, harsh breaths panting in and out.

The moment seemed to stretch out endlessly. Jean was just considering an attempt at sneaking to the back room to call the police when, as one, the two men surged forward and then they were _kissing_ , teeth clacking at the violence of the act. The height difference—especially with one seated and one standing—only added to its awkwardness.

After at least ten seconds too long, they broke apart just as violently as they had come together and pushed away from each other. The room was thick with tension and shock, and not a soul dared to stir as everyone waited to see what they would do next.

Dr. Xavier, breathing heavily, ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face—probably a reflex as it was mostly unruffled. His expression was impossible to read, but still he stared at Lehnsherr who never once took his eyes off of the professor, regarding him with a searching look. Lehnsherr must have seen something there that he liked, because then, without turning, he addressed his henchmen: 

“Gentlemen, kindly show Mr. Shaw the door.”

There was not a peep of protest from the professor as two of those who were standing around the room turned towards Shaw, who sprung from his seat and practically sprinted from the restaurant, the door clattering shut behind him. 

Lehnsherr spared a brief look at the sound, to ensure he was gone. That being done, he turned back toward the professor, his seemingly casual posture belied by a line of tension in his shoulders. He raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘well?’

For a moment it seemed as if Dr. Xavier might explode. He took in a breath, as if gearing up to keep yelling, but did not. 

Instead he breathed out and flatly ordered, “Take off the hat.” 

Lehnsherr removed it with a look of triumph, holding it out to the professor who promptly threw it under the table. Then, with a glare, Dr. Xavier reached up and dragged the other man back down, locking their lips together.

Moments later the henchman stood down, and Emma, appearing from nowhere and strangely calm, quickly had everyone cleared into the back room to finish their dinners (though most, understandably, preferred to leave). 

Jean followed in a state of shock, but hesitated for a moment at the door-- “but, the Professor—”

Emma tilted her head back to where the man in question was sweeping the wine glasses off the table in order to hoist himself up for a better kissing angle. She arched one perfectly-sculpted brow. “I think he’s fine, sugar. Don’t you?”

“Don’t worry,” she added, clapping a stunned Jean on the shoulder, “they do this every few months. Mind you—not usually quite on this scale.” 

The observation was punctuated by another ‘crash’ from the main dining room, as a tablecloth dragged several dishes with it to the floor.

\----

Jean didn’t come in for another three days after the incident. (Emma had given her them off, paid, in what she called ‘compassionate leave’). 

When she next arrived to work, she found her boss admiring a series of overflowing gift baskets and counting a fat wad of cash which would more than generously cover the damages, lost revenue, and additional compensation for disgruntled diners.

As Jean walked towards the back to sign in, Emma looked up from her count, eyes sparkling. “Bringing another man to their favourite restaurant?" She clucked her tongue. "Honestly, I don’t know what Charles was thinking."

\----

**Author's Note:**

> *Since this is from Jean’s perspective, I thought I should clarify the interactions: Charles is angry because he wanted to make Erik jealous and sad, but thought he would win because he didn’t think Erik would dare to intervene. Erik is pissed off because Charles 100% knows that Erik will not follow through with his threat to shoot Shaw (more for Charles’ sake than Shaw’s) so he really has no leverage here. Fortunately for Erik, proximity has always been their downfall.
> 
> Before anyone asks, yes, this was inspired by that one scene from Daredevil season 1. (I think that Ikeracity and Pangea also referenced this scene in their Associates series, which you should all read!)
> 
> There is a third part to this, which may eventually be published, in which Charles gets revenge. Thanks for reading!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ridiculous (But They Ain't Got Nothing On You Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19827685) by [sebastian2017](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebastian2017/pseuds/sebastian2017)




End file.
